


Interlude I

by flamethrower



Series: Re-Entry: Journey of the Whills [11]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, GFY, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 11:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamethrower/pseuds/flamethrower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Jedi Temple is full of secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude I

Saini Ella glanced up from her reader as Anakin Skywalker settled down at the table across from her.  He looked tired and troubled, and she felt a moment’s intense sympathy.  Her friend’s life was not easy, especially when events conspired against him.

“The entire _Temple_ is talking about yesterday’s assassination attempt, Skywalker.”

Anakin made a face.  “I’ll just bet they are.”  He sighed.  “Anything I should know?”

Saini made mouth-talky motions with her hand.  “Just the usual nonsense.  You and your Master are either heroes or secret Sith, trying to take over the Order via Council reports.”

Anakin snickered.  “Anyone who thinks that last bit is possible has never actually _written_ a Council report.  Those things kill brain cells.”

“What did happen?” Saini asked, leaning forward.  She loved her Master, the Altiri Ch’tall’ah, but her life was rather sedate.  She was okay with that, so far—she wasn’t twelve Standard yet, and there was plenty of time to get shot at later—but it was still nice to hear the fun stuff direct from the _eschevi’s_ mouth.

He looked at her a minute, as if considering his answer.  Saini felt the hair on the back of her neck rise in protest.  Anakin suddenly looked very _Jedi_. 

“Well…shit,” he said.  “I know you know how to keep secrets.  Come on.”

Saini tucked her reader into her pack and followed, curious at this new attempt at subtlety.  Her best friend usually didn’t bother.

They found an empty lounge, and Anakin keyed in the privacy lock with a code that she _knew_ he was not supposed to know.  “Shh.  Don’t tell anyone,” he said with a half-hearted smile. 

“Only as long as you share,” Saini countered.  She didn’t get up to hijinks, and was generally considered to be a good Padawan.  She also knew useful things when she encountered them, and liked to hoard them away for a rainy day.

“Sure, just don’t abuse it.  You get caught doing something stupid, I have no idea where you learned the code,” Anakin agreed readily. 

“You know I won’t, otherwise you wouldn’t tell me.”  Saini sat her pack on a low table, giving the room a cursory glance.  It was nicely appointed, calm and quiet.  It also had the air of a room that had seen thousands of Padawan assignations. 

Anakin sat down on a chair, breathing out a sigh.  “You know about the Jedi Shadows, right?”

“Yes,” Saini confirmed, though it was not knowledge gained by study.  Most people didn’t know who her father was.  The ones that did know weren’t aware of the fact that _Saini_ knew about Xanatos, too.  Her mother had told her of Xanatos years ago, and the Master of Shadows had already had a long talk with her about her parentage, and what it might mean to her later.

Saini didn’t think she was Shadow material.  She suspected that would mean combining the worst parts of her mother and father, and she didn’t want to be either of them. 

As for Anakin, he and Saini were used to sharing their secrets with each other.  They both had darkness shadowing their steps, something that Saini and Anakin’s other friends couldn’t understand.

“One of the Shadows managed to steal a Sith holocron from Sidious.  The assassination attempt was Sidious letting us know he’s pissed about it.”

“ _Balls_ ,” Saini whispered.  “Not a word to anyone, right?”

“Not a word,” Anakin said with a nod, but he still looked troubled.  “You know how we’ve talked about me not really being eleven, more like twenty-seven?”

Saini smiled.  “It means I can call you old, and you can’t argue with me.” 

She didn’t mind that he was older on the inside, even if she didn’t quite grasp what, exactly, had happened to Anakin and his Master to make them that way.  Old or young, Anakin was still a _genius_.  Him beating the snot out of school and graduating early, attending university for seriously advanced engineering—that’s something she figured Anakin would have done no matter what.  She missed him in class, though.  Saini was not stupid by any means, and now she felt like an oddball without Anakin’s brilliance to bounce ideas off of.

“Well…”  Anakin bit his lip.  The Jedi-ness was still there, looking weird and out of place on a kid, but it was accompanied by some serious discomfort.

“Spill it, Ani,” Saini told him.  His hesitation was starting to make her itch, and gave her a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“This is going to sound weird.”  Anakin rubbed the back of his neck and then plowed on.  “Your father told my Master that he had been thinking about coming back to the Order, or at least talking to Master Qui-Gon and trying to issue some sort of apology.”

Saini sucked in a breath as her spine turned into a line of ice.  “My father’s dead.  He can’t tell anyone anything.”

“Well, he is dead, but that thing about the dead not telling tales?  Totally not true,” Anakin said, a bright grin momentarily lighting his features.  “Trust me on that one.”

Saini stared at him.  “Okay,” she said, deciding to just put that thought aside, for now.  There were rumors swirling that Master Obi-Wan had strange ideas, and that was probably one of them. 

“Go on,” she prodded, when Anakin stayed quiet.

Anakin’s smile faded.  “Before Xanatos had a chance to make up his mind, he met Senator Palpatine.”

It took a second for the implications to sink in; Saini had gotten used to hearing Sidious, not Senator.  “What happened?” she asked in a faint voice.

“Xanatos said that Sidious made him crazy,” Anakin explained, swirling his finger around his temple as he spoke.  “He readily admitted to being screwed up, but he didn’t want to do half of the crap he did until Sidious messed with his head and _made_ him want to.”

“Oh,” Saini said, feeling tiny and insignificant and horrified, all at once.  She had grown up hearing stories about her father:  Creche boogeyman, Fallen Padawan, nightmare creature, Dark thing.   She wasn’t sure if it made it better or worse, to hear that her father had maybe not been entirely vile. 

Saini swallowed down the sour taste in her mouth.  “Why are you telling me this?”

“I know it’s supposed to be a big secret, who your dad is, but Sidious has this way of figuring out secrets,” Anakin said, and for a moment there was a haunted look in his eyes, one that chilled her further.  “If he ever finds out whose kid you are, he might try to use what he did to Xanatos against you.  If you know already, it’s one less thing Sidious can do to mess with your head.”

“I’m not _like_ you!” Saini yelled, leaping to her feet and feeling her eyes burn with unshed tears.  “He’s got no reason to look at me at all!”

Anakin shook his head, saddened.  “Saini, you’re a Jedi.  Of _course_ he’s looking at you.”

“And probably because I’m your friend, too, right?” she snapped.

Anakin flinched and glanced away.  “Maybe,” he admitted.  “I—I’ll understand if you don’t want to be, after this.”

Saini felt the air leave her lungs in a rush.  “I don’t want that,” she said, and sat down, ashamed of herself.  “I’m sorry, Anakin.”

Anakin waved off the apology.  “It’s okay,” he said, but he still wouldn’t look at her.

“It’s really not,” Saini retorted, which got his attention.  “I _do_ want to be your friend.”

He started to smile.  “Friend and not girlfriend, right?”

“Ew, no.”  Saini shook her head.  She’d met the famous, often-talked-about Padmé _“I’m so sick of hearing her name!”_ Naberrie last week.  The Naboo girl didn’t seem like much to write home about, but it was clear Anakin was over the moons about her.

“You’re like my kid brother, Ani,” she told him, which was true.

He made a face.  “I’m older than you are on the inside.”

“But not on the outside.  Plus, you’re shorter than I am.  We’ll talk about kid brother status when you start growing, Skywalker,” Saini teased.

Anakin stuck his tongue out at her.  The Jedi-ness vanished, and she had her playful friend back.  “Wanna go get lunch?”

Saini frowned and checked the chrono at her wrist.  Still at least an hour and a half until she had another class.  Her Master was off doing something bird-like for the day, something that involved more biology lessons than she was currently interested in.  “Sure.  Whatcha got in mind?”

They left the lounge and walked through the main hall for the classroom wing, where they almost ran into the two red-skinned prank monsters.  “Hey!” Anakin said with a grin, as everyone clustered against the wall to stay out of the way of constant Initiate and Padawan traffic. 

“Hey, Shy Girl,” Saini greeted the cousins.  “Sia’me.”

Shia’nelal smiled back.  The Lethan Twi’lek was not shy in the slightest, and no one was quite sure how she’d picked up the nickname.  “Hey, yourselves!  We’re on the hunt for lunch, and were wondering if anyone wanted to join us.”

“Same hunt,” Anakin said.  “I was thinking _not_ commissary, and had nefarious ideas about kidnapping a chef.  You guys want in?”

Sia’me gave Anakin a curious look.  “Where are we going to kidnap a chef, Skywalker?  The commissary’s nothing but droids.”

“And no one’s concerned that he’s talking about kidnapping someone?’” Saini asked, amused.

Anakin dropped an absurd-looking wink.  “Trust me.”

Her friend led them topside to a hall that housed a lot of the offices for working Masters.  Saini glanced around, suspecting that she could guess at Anakin’s plan.

He waved at a Mon Calamarian who was just emerging from a doorway.  “Hey, Bant!”

Bant Eerin smiled at the group.  “Hello, Anakin, Shy Girl, Sia’me, Saini.”

Saini restrained a giggle as everyone greeted the senior Padawan.  Anakin sure attracted lots of people with S names.

“I warn you, he’s not in a good mood,” Bant was saying.

“Which is exactly why we’re here,” Anakin replied cheerfully.  “Want to join the nefarious plot?”

Bant shook her head.  “I’m on my way to another empathy lesson.  You lot have fun.”

“We’re kidnapping a _Councilor?_ ” Sia’me squeaked.

“Hurray!” cheered Shia’nelal.

Anakin grinned and palmed open the door across from Eerin’s office, walking in without first requesting permission.  “Master,” he said, dropping into a proper short bow.

Saini copied the bow in tandem with Shia’nelal. Sia’me squeaked again before doing the same. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi gave them all a cursory glance, and then smiled.  Saini felt her insides melt a little.  Skywalker was cute and all, but his Master?  Oh, _stars._  

“I take it there is a plot afoot?” Master Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin nodded.  “It’s called lunch, and the commissary sucks.  You should totally be cooking.”

Master Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.  “I should, huh?”

“Yep.  We’re willing to help, too.”

Saini mirrored the eyebrow raise.  That was news.  “We are?”

“Hmm.”  Obi-Wan stood up, fetching his cloak.  “And prurient gossip has nothing to do with why there are so many of you?”

“Well, now it does,” Shia’nelal said.  “Anakin didn’t mention who we were kidnapping for foodstuff acquisition, sir.”

Obi-Wan halted in front of the female Twi’lek.  “I am officially not on duty right now,” he said, and opened his arms.

Shia’nelal giggled and launched herself at Obi-Wan, surprising everyone else.  “Obi!”

“Little hellion,” Obi-Wan returned.  “Have you been behaving yourself?”

“No,” Shia’nelal retorted, grinning against Obi-Wan’s tunics.  “Not my job.”

“Of course not,” Obi-Wan said, releasing her from the hug.  “Sia’me, I’ve heard that you’ve become one of the most proficient practitioners of the Fifth kata.”

Sia’me blushed violet and nodded.  “Yes, sir.  Are you going to say that you told me so, also?”

“That would be Master Giett’s job, if we’re assigning functions,” Obi-Wan said.

“When did you meet Master Obi-Wan?” Saini asked Shia’nelal in a whisper, as they followed Anakin and Obi-Wan from the office.

“He saved me from a bunch of assholes before I was accepted into the creche,” Shia’nelal explained, and there was no missing the pride and affection in her voice. 

“You’ve never mentioned anything before.”

Shia’nelal gave Saini a baffled look.  “Well, of course not!  It wouldn’t be polite,” she said, and bounced on ahead.  Saini watched her go and decided she didn’t understand Twi’leks at all.

They scared up Tuuvino on the way, who was flushed and springy on his toes from sparring with his Master.  He’d been the baby of the group last year, and now he could kick everyone’s ass in the salle except for Anakin.  Shia’nelal was scary good with knives, and Sia’me was an unholy terror for kicking, but Saini could still win during the creche Force-tickling wars, and that had to count for _something._

They got to eat in the new Jinn/Kenobi digs, which was fun, and did soothe their prurient curiosity—even Saini hadn’t been inside yet.  It was huge and airy, the kind of place Saini wanted to live in all the time.  She was introduced to Teya, a young black feline who made funny sounds and shamelessly begged for affection from all of the Padawans.

“Any allergies?” their kidnapped chef asked, calling them into the kitchen.

“Not me,” Tuuvino answered.

“Shellfish,” the Twi’leks chorused.

“Any vegetarians?”

Tuuvino, Shia’nelal, and Sia’me all looked at each other.  “Not with these teeth, Master,” Shia’nelal said primly.

“Bring on the meat,” Saini added.  Vegetation was what food ate.  Ch’tall’ah had yet to convince her that leaves had nutritional value.

Master Obi-Wan made them each work at a separate task to make sure lunch happened quickly.  Making food like this, in a happy, chattering group, was fun, something Saini hadn’t expected.  She wasn’t afraid of work, but cooking and fun were two words she hadn’t realized could go together.

They had a brilliant lunch ready in short order.  Shia’nelal fell in love with Master Obi-Wan’s kitchen knives.

“I have a birthday soon, really,” she said, holding a carving knife in each hand and looking far too infatuated for Saini’s comfort levels.  “Shiiiiiny.”

“I think your Master would have my head,” Master Obi-Wan said.

“That’s not a no,” Shia’nelal pointed out with a grin.

“At least I don’t live with you anymore, and no Master will come after _me_ for the holes in the walls,” Sia’me muttered.

“Yeah, why _is_ there a comm stuck in the wall, anyway?” Tuuvino asked.

Master Obi-Wan choked on what he had tasted, coughed, and went for a drink while Anakin shook his head so hard his braid flew back and forth.  _No, no, no!_ he mouthed, looking embarrassed.

Saini grinned and focused on setting the table, while Shia’nelal started to snicker.  Tuuvino and Sia’me just looked confused, but then, they _were_ boys.  They’d figure it out soon enough, if Anakin couldn’t get over his perpetual embarrassment and tell them.

At the end of the impromptu lunch hour, Saini leaned back in her chair and thought she was going to explode.  “Oof,” Sia’me grunted.  “We have got to stop eating at the commissary.  This was awesome.”

“The commissary droids know if we ate like this all the time, we’d be the fattest Jedi in the galaxy,” Shia’nelal said.  “Thank you, Master Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan smiled.  “You’re all welcome.  Anakin, this was a good idea.”

Anakin grinned.  “Someone has to make sure you stay social and don’t turn that office into another dusty cave.”

“Fuck, and also no,” Master Obi-Wan declared, grabbing the nearest empty plates and making a stack.

“Your Master should wash your mouth out with soap,” Shia’nelal said in a teasing voice.

Master Obi-Wan paused.  “Probably wouldn’t work,” he said, with a very strange smile on his face.

Saini felt her face heat.  “Shia’nelal, I don’t know how you managed to pervert that statement, but congratulations, you’re terrible.”

The Twi’lek girl hesitated, and then blushed a _very_ deep purple.  “Oh.  Right.  That’s because…oh,” she said, and Master Obi-Wan started to laugh.

Tuuvino looked baffled.  “I don’t get it.”

“Wait’ll puberty, Tuuv,” Anakin said in a muffled voice.  He had his face buried in his hands.

They separated after that:  Tuuvino and Sia’me dashed off for a shared lecture on field healing, and Shia’nelal was to attend her Master for afternoon shenanigans.  Master Obi-Wan had a Council meeting, which meant he left with a very Councilor-like expression on his face, but his eyes were still shining with good humor.  Saini decided that she liked the combination.

“Stop crushing on my Master,” Anakin said, elbowing her in the side.  “It’s _weird_.”

Saini shrugged, trying not to be embarrassed.  “Can’t help it; he’s hot.  C’mon, walk me back to my place, Skywalker.”

“Okay,” he agreed.  They talked all the way to the East Tower, catching up on Padawan gossip as well as their own life-based tidbits.  Anakin was stuck between classes because of the university’s schedule, so they made plans to spar the next morning. 

Saini didn’t expect to find her mother waiting for her, standing in the hall outside her quarters.  Her heart plummeted into her stomach.  She was alone, which meant it was a personal visit.  Saini hated those visits more than anything.

“Mother,” Saini said, dropping into a short bow.  Anakin copied her, his bow much less stilted than her own.

“My daughter,” the Senator replied in kind, a faint smile marking her stern visage.  “It is good to see you.”

“And you, Mother,” Saini said.  “Would you like to come inside?” she asked, allowing manners to guide the conversation.  There was no point in asking her mother why she’d come.  Ginia Ella would tell her, whether Saini wanted to know or not.

“Thank you, but no.  I’ve taken a very short opportunity to come and see you, Saini, as I don’t think we’ll have as many visits after the election has concluded.”

Saini resisted the urge to make a face.  Her mother lived practically next door, and Saini saw the woman four times a year if she was lucky.

Senator Ella turned her attention to Anakin.  “Padawan Skywalker, a pleasure to see you again.”

“Senator,” Anakin inclined his head.  “It’s good to see you well.  You seem certain as to the outcome regarding your bid for re-election.”

Ginia Ella smiled, a curving of the lips that Saini saw only when her mother was genuinely happy about something.  Anakin being political probably set it off.  “I am aware that certain mindsets have…changed, recently, and my House does not enjoy the reputation it once had.”  She turned back to Saini.  “And now I must go.  I will, of course, send you word on your birthday, daughter.”

“Of course, Mother,” Saini said.  “I wish you continued good health.”

“Not good fortune?” Ginia Ella asked.

She smiled.  “Jedi don’t believe in luck.”

“How conventional,” the Senator replied, and departed.

Saini watched her go.  It wasn’t fair.  The day had seemed to be going so well, and her mother had come along, and… 

She sighed.  Ginia Ella always made Saini feel as if she’d done something horribly wrong.

“I think I get why she and your dad got along,” Anakin said.

That was enough to jolt Saini out of her growing misery.  “No, not at all,” she said, shaking her head.  “Mother says they couldn’t stand each other, and that Xanatos was a bit loopy and volatile, anyway.  Not relationship material.  I’m told I was conceived due to grudge-fucking.”

Anakin blushed scarlet.  “Geeze, Saini!”

“I keep forgetting that you’re a prude,” she said with a grin.  “There’s no need to varnish the truth when it comes to my parents.  And besides,” she continued, drawing a deep breath.  “She’s an idiot.”

Anakin looked surprised.  “You think your mom is an idiot?”

Saini sighed.  The fault lay with either Ginia Ella or Saini, and Ch’tall’ah insisted that his Padawan was not deficient.  “Yeah.  Have you paid attention to the Bormea sector?  She could have nailed this election like a crackshot if she’d chosen her words more carefully, given in to a few of the silly requests while hard-lining others.  Mon Mothma doesn’t even have to say anything negative during her campaign speeches to make my mother look like a moron.”

Anakin frowned.  “Mon Mothma, huh?  Man, that’s weird.”

“Huh?  Why?”

He shrugged.  “Let’s just say that I know that name.  She’s good people.  Your mom would probably lose the election even if she had stepped up her game.”

“Weird,” Saini repeated.  “One day, you’re going to have to tell me how this past/future stuff works, Anakin.”

“When I figure out how to do that, I’ll be sure to let you know,” Anakin said, and gave Saini a brotherly peck on the cheek before walking away.

 

*          *          *          *

 

It was disturbingly _easy_ to get into the vaults.

Siri Tachi finished up copying the texts that she wanted to reference, put everything back, and then left.  Just out of curiosity’s sake, she exited in a different fashion.

Yes, still depressingly easy.  Force, it was a wonder the whole of Coruscant wasn’t traipsing their way in and out all the blasted time!

She went to Obi-Wan’s place—and then backtracked, because it was the other tower, now.  At least she had only taken three steps in the wrong direction before she remembered.  If she was going to continue along with this Shadow stuff, then it was time to pay more attention.  Those kinds of mistakes could get her very dead, and then everyone would be screwed in a most unpleasant fashion.

Also, Su’um-Va would be sad.  That was unacceptable.

To further her Shadow practice, Siri picked the bio-lock that the Jinn/Kenobi quarters had been graced with.  That wasn’t much harder than slipping into the vaults. 

Nobody was home.  No fun at all. 

Siri checked out the new digs, stuck her finger in the living room’s water feature, and then pulled out her comm, idly sending a texted message with her thumb.  Not every Jedi carried the dual units, but she knew Obi-Wan did just because of her tendency to message him at random moments.  [Where are you guys?]

She got a response by the time her tea was done steeping.  There hadn’t been much snooping to do, since Jinn was a minimalist and Kenobi never remembered that he could actually buy things unless it was food.  Siri got that it was a holdover from Tatooine, when not having money meant you might starve, but you could eat in the Temple for _free._

[In the market district.  Being assaulted by a Besalisk female who thinks I look poorly.]

Siri smirked.  [You do look poorly, scrawny butt.  Where’s your sweetener?]

[Upper cabinet.  You didn’t need to break in, by the way.  Your signature’s in the biolock.]

She found the sweetener, and then changed her mind to raid the honey, instead.  Nom.  She had to put down the tea mug to respond. [It is?  Isn’t that awkward?  Jinn lives here, too.  I figured you guys would have a limit on who could just barge in.]

There was a gap before he responded again.  Siri had finished her tea, cleaned the mug, and put it away by that time.  She’d also found his alcohol.  Tempting, but drinking and Sithing didn’t sound like the wisest combination.

[He’s my Lifemate, Tachi, not my roommate.  And stay out of our bedroom.]

She grinned.  [Too late.  You guys are boring.  No toys at all.]

This time there was _no_ delay.  [We haven’t finished unpacking yet, wench.  Go judge someone else’s sex life.]

Siri snickered and let herself back out.  On the way home (she’d had enough of Darth Zannah for the night) she sent a message to Su’um-Va. 

The Healer had never carried a dual comm, either, until she showed him the benefit of a message that could be received in public and not get them in trouble.  Considering the fact that Siri sent him a lot of messages revolving around what she planned to do to Suva when she saw him again, it was really for the best. 

She was in her own new quarters by the time Suva replied.  It was her very first time living alone, and it was just as awesome as she had always suspected.

[I always miss you, dear.  Surgery in a few moments, though, so make it fast.]

Hint received:  Do not sexually rile me before the handling of delicate instruments and/or minds.

Siri grinned and settled onto her fab couch, stretching out on the full length of it after toeing off her boots.  [I just realized I never gave you the code for my quarters here in the Temple.  So, it’s in your digital mailbox when you get out of surgery.]

[…is that a hint?]

[Duh] she sent back.

She could practically feel his pleasure.  [Wonderful Knight-elect.  I love you.]

[Love you, too] she answered, and then shut down the comm and tossed it onto the low table in front of her couch.  After double-checking with the Force that her door was sealed and privacy locked against unwanted intruders, Siri retrieved her datapad from the inside of her tunics and loaded up the files she had copied from the documents in the vaults.

There was no such thing as a primer for the Sith tongue, but thanks to the Sharing, the language was lurking in her subconscious somewhere.  Siri was hoping that the files she had acquired would help tease the memories out, because otherwise this Discern the Holocron shell game was going to be nothing but a disaster.  Darth Zannah wouldn’t even talk to her.  Both holocrons had laughed and shut down the moment Siri spoke in Basic.

It did work, to an extent.  Reading and studying over the next several days didn’t magically make the language appear in her head, but basic words and phrases started trickling in.  She finished up the first files, thought about it, and went back to the sealed vaults for more. 

This time, Master Windu was inside waiting for her.  He had his arms crossed, and was looking at her with that unflappable Councilor expression that had terrified scores of Padawans.  “You know, you’re a Knight-Elect now, Tachi.  If you really needed in here, you could have put in a request.”

Siri blew out a dismissive puff of air.  “That isn’t anywhere near as informative, or as fun, Master Mace.”

He grinned.  “True.  I know of three ways in and out of here.  How many have you picked up?”

She was so startled by the grin that she answered without thinking.  “Five.  I’m pretty sure there are at least two more.”

“Five.  Damn.”  Mace shook his head.  “Map them for me, Tachi, every single one that you can find.  It’s always been handy to know that there’s a back door for the vaults, but with a Sith on the loose, we don’t dare keep those paths open.”

“If you knew it was possible to break into the vaults, why not fix it long before this?” Siri asked.  She was kind of annoyed—mapping was going to cut into her Trial time.

Seeing a smirk on the Head of the Order’s face was almost as disconcerting as that random grin.  “It is traditional for certain senior Padawans to prove their worth by making their way in here without being caught.  We’ll just have to find a new challenge for them.”

Siri’s curiosity was piqued, now.  “Who?”

“If you want to know, you’ll have to figure it out yourself, Knight-Elect Tachi,” Windu said, a gleam of challenge in his eyes.  “That’s going to be your job.”

By the tenth day, Siri felt like she’d tried to head-fuck a sublight engine.  Even with those memories, witnessing and feeling everything, she still thought Obi-Wan had been hyperbolic.  Not so much, as it turned out.  During the Sharing, her mind had been conveniently translating her understanding of it all into Basic.  Her stupid brain had done her no favors what-so-fucking-ever.  

A single word in the Sith tongue could actually be an entire sentence.  An entire sentence could, transversely, be one word—and it was all half-ass backwards, like they’d taken lessons from fecking _Yoda._  The ancient Sith were all insane fuckers.

Common Sith.  High Sith.  Kittât.  Nope, nope, and nope.  She went down to the Ward, and in keeping with her new Shadowy-ness, swiped several hypos meant for migraine sufferers.  A low dose kept the worst of it at bay; full doses were not allowed, not unless she wanted to be comatose for twenty-six hours.

Still, Siri knew she was making progress when she dropped in on Kenobi and said, _“Saarai-kaar nu huduû hyal,”_ to which Obi-Wan replied, _“Huduû qo_ —wait, what?”

She grinned at the confounded expression on his face.  “Now I’m ready to talk to some holocrons.”

 

*          *          *          *

 

Adi Gallia awoke slowly, a luxury she did not get very often.  There was still a warm body in the bed next to her, radiating heat and making the bed sheet almost unnecessary.

Oh, there were such wondrous benefits to one’s Padawan moving into her own quarters.

She rolled over and rested her head on Mace’s shoulder, content and sore in all of the best possible ways.  The Jedi Temple had many, many secrets, but Adi privately thought that this particular one might be the most well-kept.  Maybe years ago, when Adi was young, the necessity of keeping this silent would have made her chafe, made her impatient…but not now.  She was a Councilor and a diplomat, and keeping secrets had become easier with practice.

Several years ago, when the Jedi teams had come home and the wounded had been sorted into the Ward, Adi had found Mace sitting on the Grand Stair.  For a moment, she had simply stopped in her tracks.  Never had she seen Mace Windu looking so _shaken._

She had sat down beside him, taken his hand, and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Against all the odds, it was going to be fine.  That damned Accord was signed, peace was made, and the fighting was done.  And just as suddenly…it wasn’t.”  Mace sighed.  “Dama Ro was a good friend.  I almost lost two more friends before it was over.”

Hearing the grief in his voice, Adi pressed her cheek against his shoulder, the comfort she had always offered to him when they were younger.  To her surprise, Mace put his arm around her.

“Sometimes, Obi-Wan slips,” Mace continued in a soft voice.  “He’ll talk about what happened to him.”  Adi nodded in agreement; she had heard a couple of those slips, herself.  Some were amusing.  Some were chilling. 

“One thing I’ve noticed, during those slips, is that he never mentions you,” Mace said.

“Do you think I died?” Adi asked, curious.

“I don’t think Obi-Wan is trying to be devious,” Mace answered, which was not what Adi had asked at all, “but I do think he’s struggling, some days.”

“Ah,” she replied.  She was having trouble following his chain of thought, which meant Mace was probably at least five steps ahead of the conversation and getting sidetracked by what he was actually thinking about.

“But if it does mean that you’re gone...”  Mace drew in a deep breath.  “I don’t want to have never shared myself with you.”

That got her attention.  Adi sat up and looked at him.  “You know we can’t, not officially.”

“Not officially, no,” he agreed.

She smiled.  “Are you suggesting that we enter into a covert relationship, keeping it secret from all comers—”

“And Yoda.”

“—and disregard the rules that govern the Council by committing the grievous sin of conflict of interest?”

Mace looked disgruntled by her recitation.  “Well, shit, Adi, if Qui-Gon can get away with it all these years, I think I will allow myself this one instance of rule-breaking.  At this point, I think we can both remain objective.”

She couldn’t help it.  “Just one instance?”

Mace smiled at her, but he still looked tired.  “Take me back to my quarters, Adi.  Please help me to forget the Yinchorri and their damned war.”

Adi had taken him home, and yes, she had done her very best to help Mace forget the Yinchorri Uprising.  Neither of them had remained chaste out of affection for the other, over the years.  (Case in point:  Mace and Ra’um-Ve.  Gods, but that had been a _disaster._ )  Still, Adi had known she wanted him, all of him, since Mace’s Knighting.  The wait was well worth it.

Adi had half-fallen back asleep, lulled by memory; turning her head brought her eyes level with the glowing chrono display next to her bed.  “Sith,” she mumbled, and rolled back over to nudge Mace.  “It’s third hour.  You have to get up and go.  If we’re going to continue our delicious sexual treachery, it will not do for you to come stumbling out of my quarters looking bleary-eyed and well-fucked.”

Mace groaned and threw his arm over his eyes.  “If I didn’t need you on the Council so damn badly right now, I’d go shout our relationship from the towers just so I could get more sleep.”

Adi sat up, letting the sheet pool at her hips.  It was a moment of private delight that Mace’s eyes automatically followed the curve of her breasts.  “I’ve been thinking of asking Tahl to take my place on the Council.”

He sat up in bed, also, lifting his hand to run his fingertips from the top of her shoulder down to her elbow, making her shiver.  “But not yet, I’m assuming, given our friend’s very pregnant state.”

“Not yet, no,” Adi said, fighting a grin as his fingers abandoned her arm and began tracing paths up and down her back.  “After the baby’s first year, I think.”

Mace nodded, almost absently.  “A year and three months, then, depending on when Micah Giett’s son decides to put in an appearance.  I can work with that.”

“Oh?” Adi asked, but he didn’t answer.  Instead, Mace proceeded to remind her why morning erections were very excellent things.  Always nice to start the morning with three orgasms.

After Mace had left for the day, Adi found a box sitting in the center of her rumpled bed.  Inside, embraced by a cushioned pad, were three tiny lightsaber crystals.

Entranced, she held the first crystal in her hand.  In her mind’s eye, she could see the gorgeous red-violet shade that it would become.  It was what she had wanted when she was building her first lightsaber, but the artificial crystals had never baked right.  Dark red was the best she’d managed to get.

 _Oh, Mace,_ Adi thought, and cradled the box to her chest.  One year and three months, he’d said. 

These were her promise-stones.


End file.
